How to Do the Impossible
by MagicSwede1965
Summary: Roarke endeavors to teach Leslie a new trick of the trade, which leads her into a situation she isn't sure she can handle. Follows 'Partners in Crime'.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _After poking through my remaining story ideas and messing around on Facebook, I started writing this story, which is still under construction as I post this initial chapter. This is another of the fun "magical"-aspect suggestions given to me by Misheemom, and I thought I'd see what I could do with this one. Enjoy…

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§ § § -- June 3, 2006

"I presume you've fully rested now after the triplets' birthday party yesterday?" asked Roarke humorously as Leslie crossed the porch that Saturday morning with Christian behind her. The triplets, newly two, were as usual upstairs with devoted babysitter Haruko Miyamoto. School was just out for the summer, and there were a lot of happy kids on the island today.

"I think so," Leslie said, pretending to sag with weariness, and the men laughed. "So now all we have to do is brace for the Terrible Twos. Maybe by their next birthday, they'll be well in progress with toilet training."

"As far," Roarke interjected, half teasing, half serious, "as you might be, perhaps, in your extra training?"

Christian's ears clearly perked up at that. "Extra training?" he repeated. "Is this going to turn into another of those irresistible stories we sometimes share?"

Leslie peered over her shoulder at him. "I don't know. It could involve certain trade secrets. And unless you're willing to pretend you never heard the tale, we might not tell it."

"Well, that's trust for you." Christian pretended to sulk. "Tell you what, I'll give you till lunch to decide. Till then…Mr. Roarke." He leaned over and kissed his wife. "My Rose. Have a good morning." He trotted off the porch and departed in the Enstads' car.

Leslie watched him go, then looked at Roarke. "I take it the fantasies this weekend are suitably mundane that you're feeling as if I need a few more magic lessons."

Roarke frowned and put a finger to his lips. "Not so loudly, Leslie. Ah…here's the car, we'd better go." She chuckled to herself and followed him off the porch. Had she pressed the issue, he would undoubtedly have cited the presence of too many superstitious natives around to overhear; but she was sure he just didn't want her accidentally giving anything away. Even with her he was still amazingly secretive.

Wondering what he had in mind distracted her enough that morning that she had a hard time keeping her mind on their guests while Roarke sent them off into their fantasies; as she had predicted, they were indeed mundane. A college coed wanted to be a fashion model, in order to make up her mind about continuing her education or taking an offer she had received a few weeks before; and a clumsy ne'er-do-well had a fantasy to be a doctor, just to prove he could actually do something, even if it was with Roarke's help.

Once both guests were on their way, Roarke studied his daughter, then smiled faintly at her. "Well, then, are you ready?"

"Depends on what for," she said, waiting eagerly.

"Perhaps this would be a good time for you to learn how to mix up simple potions. By the way, how has Tobias been doing? Have his nightmares diminished?"

She shrugged. "Hard to say. Dr. Corbett said when I called her a few days ago to just comfort him when he wakes up and cries in the night, leave the nightlight on in the kids' room, and don't make any big changes in the household right now. She assured me he's just two and it won't be too long before the whole thing fades right out of his memory." She met his faintly amused gaze with a weary smile of her own. "Last night he didn't have any bad dreams for a change. I don't know if that means he's starting to get over it, or if it was just because he had such a wonderful time at the birthday party yesterday."

Roarke grinned. "I suspect Christian would tell you not to question small miracles. Time will tell, Leslie, and try to be patient. Dr. Corbett is right; he's young enough that this won't leave a clear impression on him. He may have the remnants of the memory for some time to come, perhaps even a few years. Did the doctor mention that?"

"No, but I've heard things," Leslie said, following him down the hall that led to the kitchen. "Mostly from guests. I can still remember the one woman we had last year who'd been having this mysterious nightmare ever since she was old enough to have a decent memory for things like that, and how it turned out to stem from a traumatic incident when she was about the triplets' age. So I see what you're getting at. I just hope it doesn't stick with Tobias like that. I don't think we could endure for that long."

"I suspect that in time it will diminish in importance," Roarke said, taking the stairs down to the cellar of the main house. Leslie peered up, from habit, catching patches of clear blue sky from the bell tower far above them. "Due to my profession and their proximity to it, they will eventually come to take most of these unusual incidents more or less for granted. So I don't think you need worry very much about the long-term effects of this one. Now, if you'll find the light switch for me, I'll gather some ingredients and we can begin."

"Something simple, I presume," said Leslie, patting the wall near the foot of the stairs in search of the switch. "Drat it, I always forget where the switch is. I think this is the fourth time I've ever been down here since I first came to live here."

Roarke laughed just as she found the switch and pushed it up, illuminating the entire area with a warm glow. "It's that rare that you're able to keep track?"

"Believe me, that dire warning you gave me my first week here really sank in," she teased him. "My first time was when you showed me the cellar that same week; the second time must have been when Rogan and I were looking for the palliative when you had the bone-eating disease; the third time was when he brought me down here and I helped him mix up the cure for it. So that makes this the fourth."

"I see. Well, if this lesson takes root, you may find yourself down here much more frequently than once every eight or nine years," said Roarke, his amusement lingering even as he circled the room choosing oddly shaped jars and bottles from what seemed like random shelves. Leslie watched, drifting toward the stainless-steel table in the middle of the room, rapt attention on her father. "Now," Roarke continued, "until you can learn to read this alphabet well enough to understand the labels, I'll have to tag the bottles you'll need when you're creating potions in the future. Which means you'll be studying for some time."

Leslie picked up one bottle and peered at the loopy, swooping symbols on its label. "Am I allowed to ask what language this alphabet belongs to?"

"It's the native tongue of all the clans, including mine," Roarke said. "The language has passed from everyday use, but we are still taught to read it so that we can make use of it when necessary. It was the only language my grandmothers spoke." He busied himself placing vials and small measuring implements on the table, then paused and regarded her. "I hope you won't find it too difficult. You're already forty-one, and it's quite a task for someone that old to learn a new language, particularly with any fluency."

"You talk like I'm a tottering old crone," Leslie complained, her voice light but holding a twinge of annoyance all the same. "Anyway, you implied that I'll need to learn only how to read it, not speak it, and I won't need fluency if the only words I have to know are the ones on these labels."

To her surprise, Roarke grinned again. "Excellent, my child," he praised her. "You're thinking. Yes, you're correct, but I feel it would be a good thing for you to attain enough familiarity with the language to be able to read these labels with ease and confidence. That is the first step; the next step will be learning about the various substances in the containers, and after that you will learn not only what they do, but how they interact when combined. Everything you see here has a purpose of its own, in its pure form. Combined, not only do they have an entirely different function, but each ingredient affects—and changes—what all the other ingredients can and will do. Therefore, you have a cumulative effect in sum, which requires you to be immaculately careful about what you combine and in what quantities. Do you understand me so far?"

"I follow you," Leslie said, nodding. "Every action has a reaction, and no two are exactly alike."

"Precisely. Now…let's begin with something simple, as you mentioned a moment ago. Perhaps…" He considered it a moment, then nodded. "Let's try the potion for strength that Julie once used during her days as my assistant."

Leslie laughed. "I remember that. She meant inner strength, but she _got outer_ strength. I still think poor old Charlie Atkins was disappointed about losing all those muscles."

Roarke chuckled and observed, "Perhaps so. In any case, it's one of the simplest potions to make up; it requires only two ingredients, and one of them is plain water. Now, just to see if you might remember anything from that memory you just cited, try to locate the strength elixir."

Leslie shot him a very dubious look that made his dark eyes twinkle with merriment, but she dutifully began scanning all the labels. Roarke watched her, and she felt his gaze on her at first; then an idea occurred to her and she froze in place, casting back to when Julie had granted Charlie Atkins' fantasy to become the strongest man in the world. It was probably just as well Julie had made the mistake of failing to specify inner, rather than physical, strength, for this error provided the only clue Leslie had. She remembered closely watching Roarke pour the potion into a cup…_from a solid container, _she thought, frowning._ Some silver thing, like a chalice or at least a really fancy decanter. And Mr. Atkins' drinking cup was silver too. But I think the potion itself was…was very pale…_ Brightening, she scanned the bottles again and zeroed in on one substance that was so pale blue in color it looked almost clear. "This one," she said and raised it to show Roarke.

Her heart sank when she saw Roarke stifle a smile. "Are you so certain? Think again," he prompted. "And think very carefully. I gave you a clue a moment ago."

On the verge of retorting _You did not!_, Leslie caught herself and went back over their last few minutes of conversation. _Oh, that's right, stupid,_ she thought, scowling, and put the bottle back where she'd found it. This time she looked more carefully, and finally chose a jar of deep-blue liquid and lifted it. "This one?"

"Very good, that's the correct one," Roarke said, smiling broadly. "I admit to curiosity. How did you figure out the right answer?"

She grinned. "I recalled that the potion you gave Mr. Atkins was very pale blue in color, and at first I forgot that you said the other ingredient was water. That's why I picked the wrong one the first time. But then I remembered, after you jogged my memory about leaving me a clue, and I went from there." She examined the bottle under the lamp that hung above the table. "Look how deep blue this is…a sapphire color. This must be really potent, since I remember the potion being almost clear in color."

"Good, good," Roarke said. "That too is correct. You're doing very well, Leslie; perhaps it won't be as difficult as I had feared to teach you, at least the simplest steps. Yes, the elixir is very potent indeed, so it takes only a few drops in a container of water to provide the desired effect."

She peered at him. "What's the difference between 'elixir' and 'potion'? I thought the two terms were interchangeable, but you aren't using them that way."

"Because they are not. The elixir is the pure form of any one ingredient; a potion is the completed combination of ingredients. Now…let's try—"

But a voice from above interrupted him. "Uncle? Leslie? Are you here? Haruko upstairs insists you didn't leave the house…"

Roarke went to the foot of the steps leading up through the dining room and into the bell tower, and called up, "We're down here, Rogan. What can we do for you?"

"Ah, good." A moment later Rogan clattered down the stairs, looking a little hassled and very determined. "Uncle, I apologize if this is a bad time, but I'm afraid things have come to a head with Rory. He's finished kindergarten, he's six years old, and it's time he began learning how to use—and _control_—the powers he was born with."

Roarke and Leslie both stared at him. "And why precisely now?" Roarke asked.

"Because his educational future is on the line if we don't begin now. His kindergarten teacher sent a note home with him yesterday, a very strident note, I might add. It said something to the effect that she was deeply relieved that he was at last no longer her student, that she was fed up beyond imagination with his antics, and that if we didn't see to it over the summer that the lad was taught some self-control, she would strongly recommend to the principal that he not be allowed into the first grade come September."

Leslie's eyes widened; Roarke nodded slowly. "I see. If you don't mind my asking, Rogan, what sort of…uh, 'antics' is the teacher referring to?"

Rogan grunted and rolled his eyes. "Where shall I begin, hm? Let's see…on his first day of school, lo these many months ago, he turned his teacher into an Easter basket. For the class Halloween party, he managed to conjure up a ghost, resulting in the allegedly permanent traumatizing of half a dozen impressionable little classmates. When it came his turn to have his birthday celebrated in his classroom come December, an' he got gifts he didn't like from various classmates, he changed them into things he did like. At the class Christmas party later that month, he changed all the gift tags so that they had his name on them, an' none o' the rest o' the class received presents until his teacher came to us and Julie and I threatened him with no presents at home unless he changed them back. All year long he's been pickin' on one poor hapless little lass, changin' her into all sorts o' nasty things—a rubbish container, a well-used toothbrush, a pair o' muddy shoes, a cockroach an' any number of other unattractive insects, an' once even a toilet. This activity peaked in January when there were no class activities for him t' disrupt. On Valentine's Day, he repeated his Christmas tricks and changed all th' valentine cards in th' classroom so that he received them all…"

"I think we get the picture," Leslie said faintly, gaping at him.

"Och, lass, I'm not yet finished," Rogan scolded, shaking a finger at her, which made Roarke stifle a smile. "On the sainted Saint Paddy's day, he explained t' his class that Saint Patrick rid Ireland o' snakes…an' then conjured up a snake or two just t' prove his point, which sent th' class int' pure hysterics." By now his brogue was so thick that Roarke and Leslie could barely understand him. "At Easter he changed _everyone_, includin' th' teacher—again—int' Easter baskets. He continued t' change his poor little target into more unsavory things, such as an anteater, a pile o' dirt, more assorted insect pests…once he turned her int' a bicycle an' rode the poor lass all over th' schoolyard afore he was made t' stop. Last month he turned her int' a fish an' refused to put her int' water until th' teacher threatened him with only th' heavens know what. Th' last straw was when he made a bow an' arrow out o' that child an' taunted his classmates by tellin' 'em he was aimin' t' shoot 'em full o' arrows."

"You do have quite a problem," Roarke agreed when Rogan finally stopped and stared expectantly at him.

"Uncle, when ye make that sort o' massive understatement, ye really send me blood pressure t' th' unhealthiest possible heights," Rogan roared, pacing the room. "Julie and I've been presented wi' at least eight lawsuits, all from parents o' children Rory has done somethin' to during the year. We've been told he would be better off under home-schoolin', but he's enough o' a handful when he's there, and Julie needs th' break she gets. She's very, very stressed out about th' comin' summer holiday. The school itself is makin' noise about bringin' a lawsuit against us, never mind individual parents. All this, they say, unless we find some way t' tame that lad an' make him stop!" At this Rogan stopped short, pivoted on the ball of one foot and pointed straight at Roarke. "An' _you_, uncle, are th' only one on this entire planet who can override th' lad and teach him how t' use his abilities in th' proper fashion! So I suggest, in th' name o' peace on this island, that ye agree straightaway, or…"

Roarke's features had set into stone. "I don't take kindly to threats myself," he warned his cousin's son, in a voice that made even Rogan snap his mouth shut. "Perhaps you'd better calm yourself before you continue."

Rogan cleared his throat. "I apologize, uncle, but we're at th' end of our rope. It's a sheer wonder th' lad wasn't expelled an' told t' wait till next year t' return."

"Why wasn't he?" Leslie asked.

"I managed t' use a little power o' me own to persuade 'em not to," Rogan admitted, a little sheepishly. "'Twas th' only way t' preserve Julie's sanity, poor lass."

"And shred the sanity of Rory's teacher," inserted Leslie dryly.

"Sure an' _she_ never had t' live with th' lad!" Rogan shot back. "He spent enough time changing Julie int' things afore he started kindergarten an' found a bigger target audience. Aye, uncle, that he did, though ye never saw it. We had hopes all year that he'd learn a little discipline, but nothin's come o' it. So now we turn t' you. Ye happen t' be our last resort."

Roarke sighed gently. "Where is Rory now?"

"A' home wi' Julie. I'm tellin' ye, there'll be no peace in our household till somethin' drastic is done. I dare not even imagine what th' lad might be up t' now."

Roarke regarded him thoughtfully, then inquired, "Tell me, Rogan, what do you do while Julie is busy with your son?"

Rogan clearly saw through to the implications of Roarke's question, and protested indignantly, "I've me business t' run! How am I t' provide for me wife an' th' lad unless I'm in th' greenhouse every blessed day, makin' sure I've quality product t' sell?"

"Christian's country has a saying," Leslie remarked, "that it takes two to make a child and it takes two to raise that child. Every time I come over to your place, you're holed up in the greenhouse communing with your plants. What kind of conclusion are we supposed to draw from that?"

"Leslie may have a point," said Roarke. "Does she?"

"Oh, now, uncle…" Rogan began.

"You are the one with the powers, remember?" Roarke put in pointedly. "Just because Julie is a MacNabb does not mean she is automatically expert in the use of the MacNabb magic. Remember, she herself doesn't possess it; and believe me, it's extremely difficult, if not impossible, for someone without magical talent to teach—often, to even handle—someone _with_ it. You, on the other hand, should have much less trouble."

"I haven't th' time!" Rogan burst out.

"Then make the time," Roarke said without missing a beat. "When you reach your limit and you have taught the boy all you can, then you may bring him to me and we will discuss further education in the matter. Until then, however, the basics are up to you, beginning with discipline. And you should know better than most that any child with talents such as Rory's must be handled with particular care and finesse. If I dare go so far, I might say that neither you nor Julie has put more than token effort into exacting the proper discipline on Rory, or his teacher and classmates might not have suffered the effects of those 'antics' you described."

Rogan looked outraged. "So what ye're sayin' is, ye'll not have anythin' t' do wi' Rory till Julie and I've beaten some sense int' the lad, is that it?"

"You and Julie are his parents, not I," Roarke reminded him, "and it is the responsibility of the parents, in all cases, to teach their children how to behave decently in public. I have the right to insist on a student who knows what he is _not_ supposed to be doing, before I undertake to instruct him further in the magical arts."

Rogan's expression was now of one utterly thwarted. "Och, uncle, ye're a hard man, ye know. Ye drive th' worst bargain o' anyone I've ever met in me life, an' that includes me da, he o' not-so-sainted memory. But I must admit, ye've a point…perhaps we've not been as diligent as we should in teachin' th' lad some restraint. Well enough, then, we'll do what we can over th' summer, will that work fer ye?"

"That should be sufficient," Roarke agreed. "In any case, I have several fairly difficult lessons to teach Leslie during these next few months, so my own time is limited as well. If you and Julie can present me with a well-behaved boy by the time school begins again in three months, I'll agree to begin teaching him."

"Aye, then, we've a deal," Rogan said and blew out a long, weary sigh. "Sure an' this'll be th' longest everlastin' summer I've ever known…" He climbed the stairs and out of sight.

Roarke and Leslie watched him go, and Leslie grinned wryly. "The ultimate lesson in how to do the impossible," she remarked.

Roarke laughed. "That depends on how much success Rogan and Julie have with Rory this summer. Meantime, you need to turn your mind to other things. Now, let's look at the potion I created to allow the blind to temporarily see again."

"I thought that came from a flower," Leslie said, surprised.

"So it does." Roarke lifted a small bottle from the table and handed it to her, then took a basket out of a stack of them in a corner. "When Mr. Ned Scott, the newly blind detective, came here to search for the actress Nona Lauren, I made enough of it to cover several such fantasies. As you can see, the bottle is nearly empty, and I must obtain more of the blossoms in order to make up a new batch. If you'll put that in your pocket and come along with me…"

Leslie tilted the bottle and watched the tiny amount of clear liquid within coat the interior, before pocketing the small glass jar and following Roarke up the stairs. "Refresh my memory, are we going to have another blind person who wants to see again in the future?"

"It's a few weeks away," Roarke said, "but yes, we will. However, the difference in this case is that the person in question has been blind from birth. I considered that fantasy long and hard before I agreed to grant it; I do still have my reservations."

They crossed the foyer and headed for the porch. "Then why did you decide to grant it?" Leslie wanted to know.

"The young man's wife recently bore a child, and he wants, just once, to be able to see her and their little daughter," Roarke explained. "He asked for nothing more than that. I questioned him extensively during a telephone call, and he insisted that if he had only an hour during which he could commit his wife's and child's faces to memory, that would be enough for him."

Leslie thought about it. "I guess that makes some sense," she mused. "I read something once about how someone who was blind from birth had his sight restored, and how he had a terrible time adjusting to it because he was an adult, and his brain had long since set itself into a permanent pattern of coping without sight. Do you figure that being able to see, after a lifetime of blindness, would overwhelm him to the point that he wouldn't be tempted to insist that you find a way to permanently cure him?"

Roarke glanced at her over his shoulder and simply smiled. "That's to be seen, my child," was all he said. "For now, let's concentrate on the potion, so that we will be able to grant the fantasy in the first place." She gave in, wondering whether he'd meant to make that pun he'd uttered.

Fairly deep in the jungle some distance behind the main house, Roarke found his quarry and showed it to Leslie: a large, brilliant scarlet bloom three or four inches across, odorless, petals damp to the touch. At his direction, Leslie carefully drew a fingertip along one of the smaller petals, from center to end, and stared at the glistening dew on her finger. "Is this the stuff that goes into the potion?"

"It's one of the two ingredients the flower produces that go into it, yes," Roarke told her. "Now that you know exactly what they look like, you must pick fifteen of these." He then stood back and watched while Leslie searched out fifteen blooms and dropped them into the basket he had given her. It took her some time, for despite its flashy color, the flower wasn't easy to find. Almost an hour had passed before she had collected the required fifteen, but Roarke nodded smiling approval and she felt better about her efforts, which had left her a little overheated and sweaty.

"How about some lunch?" she hinted hopefully. "And I think I could use a cool shower, too. That's harder work than it ought to be."

Roarke laughed. "You'd be surprised," he remarked. "If you think this was difficult, wait until we start to search for the love-in-idleness blossoms."

"Oh, I can hardly wait," she muttered, and rolled her eyes to herself at his quiet chuckle. Raking a hand through her limp hair and leaving it tousled and tufted, she trudged along behind him, toting her basket, her mind full of a cool, refreshing shower.


	2. Chapter 2

§ § § -- June 3, 2006

As it turned out, Christian was waiting for them in the study, and stared in amazement at his wife when she and her father came in through the French shutters. _"Herregud_, my Rose, what in fate's name happened to you?" he exclaimed.

"I went picking flowers," she said wryly, and he gave her a strange look.

"We'll explain a little further over lunch," Roarke promised the confused prince. "At the moment, Leslie is interested in a shower."

"Do you need fresh clothes?" Christian asked.

"I've got spare outfits in the closet in my old room," she said, dropping the basket of flowers atop Roarke's desk and making for the stairs. "I'll try not to take too long."

Christian cast a quick glance at Roarke, then made a decision and trailed Leslie up the stairs. "I think I'd like to hear your side of it. Don't tell me, this was part of Mr. Roarke's training, right?" She nodded wearily, without even turning to look at him, and veered into her old bedroom, almost shutting Christian in the hallway. He slipped through the doorway just in time and took the knob out of her hand to close the door himself. "And all you did was pick flowers? How can that be strenuous?"

"They weren't exactly jumping out of the bushes and into my basket," she said with another look, pulling open the closet door and extracting a replica of the white pantsuit, trimmed in black, that she was wearing. "If Father decides to go looking for that damned love-in-idleness this afternoon, I'd better not bother with the jacket."

Christian let that go, realizing she was murmuring to herself, and pressed the original issue, intrigued. "Come on, Leslie, don't be so stingy. Are you saying they were hard to find?" He watched her drop the hanger containing the new pantsuit onto the bed and begin to rummage in one of the built-in drawers under the dormer window seat.

"You bet they were," she grunted. "Father wanted fifteen of them, and he left the searching entirely up to me. They're so bright red you could use them for traffic lights, but that didn't matter. I had to hunt high and low for the blasted things. They were hiding in all kinds of places. Under other bushes, hanging from tree branches, growing beneath dropped leaves…almost none of them were in plain sight. Took me almost an hour."

"I see," Christian said, noting her disgruntled tone and carefully stifling a chuckle. "And what was that about idle love you were mumbling about a moment ago?"

"Love-in-idleness," Leslie corrected, standing up and tossing underclothing atop the pantsuit. "If you remember your Shakespeare, that's the flower he mentions in _A Midsummer Night's Dream."_

"Oh, that's right," he realized and hiked a brow. "You mean they're real?"

"Real as you or I," she said and began to strip while he watched. "Not that I've ever seen one. I've had to take Father's word for it all these years, since I was a teenager and he told Julie it grows here—but only he knows exactly where."

"Has he ever described it?" Christian persisted, fascinated.

"No," she said and dropped her top on the floor, pausing to eye him. "If you're really that eager to know, I promise I'll show you one if we go looking for them today. But I need you to do me a favor and see how the kids are doing."

Christian snorted good-naturedly and brushed this off with, "You just want to get rid of me, Leslie Enstad. You know perfectly well Haruko is a wonder-worker with them and they love spending time with her, because she plays anything they want with them. Quit trying to distract me. I'd really like to know. You must admit I show far more interest in what you do as Mr. Roarke's assistant than you do in any of my computer skills."

She paused in the middle of removing her underclothes. "Does that bug you?"

He burst into laughter. "My darling, we both know that no matter how much I love tinkering with computers, it simply can't compare to learning Mr. Roarke's little secrets. Getting you to tell me anything at all is akin to making a fish close its eyes, and I have to wonder whether you trust me to keep those trade secrets of yours."

She finally grinned wearily and reached over to squeeze his hand. "I'm sorry if I've been short with you, my love. It's just that it's been a long morning, and I have the prospect of studying in front of me. I have the sneaky feeling Father's going to give me a pop quiz in the near future. Really, it's like being back in school. Maybe I'll feel better once I've had that shower. I'd hate to have a guest see me in this condition."

"Since you're stark naked right now, so would I," Christian quipped, and laughed in delight at her dirty look. "As far as I'm concerned, you're more tempting than you realize, but I'll restrain myself for your sake. Stay in here till I've taken Haruko and the children down to lunch, and then by all means, enjoy your shower." He kissed her and headed out.

When she came back down a little less than ten minutes later, her hair was still wet, a towel had been slung over her shoulder, and she was still in the process of relatching her ruby heart necklace. Christian saw her coming and arose to complete the operation for her, smiling. "Welcome to lunch. Feeling better?"

"You look much better," Roarke said, surveying his daughter. "Just in time to take in some fuel for the afternoon. After I've checked on the fantasies, you and I will be busy."

Leslie wrapped her hair in the towel and squeezed hard. "That's what I was afraid of," she said with a little sigh and dropped into her chair.

"Busy doing what?" asked Haruko, who had been helping Christian refill the triplets' plates and wipe off their faces.

Leslie smiled and hoped she looked calm and mysterious, as her father seemed to do with such minimal effort. "Working." She noticed the look Christian gave her, but ignored it; he should know better than to talk freely in front of too many people. Haruko was a well-behaved girl, but she was still a teenager and had nothing to do with the business; and Leslie didn't want stories of her escapades this weekend being spread all over the island via the teenage gossip network. She knew it would, even with school out for the summer; kids didn't stop seeing their friends just because it was summer vacation.

"Indeed," said Roarke, picking up the slack, smiling at Haruko. "Which is why both Christian and Leslie are grateful for all your help with the children. And I myself have seen that you do a fine job with them. They enjoy playing with you very much."

"Thanks, Mr. Roarke," said Haruko, going pink with pleasure. "They're still just as cute and fun as they were when they were babies. Well, maybe they're a little messier, but they're still lots of fun." The adults laughed, and to Leslie's relief, the conversation remained successfully diverted.

She was further relieved when, after lunch, Roarke gave her a paper on which he had handwritten the symbols she had seen on the bottles of elixir down cellar. "I've been thinking," Roarke mused, "that perhaps Christian may be able to create a font program for these symbols. I need to replace the labels on those bottles downstairs, and I'd prefer that the symbols were printed as clearly as possible, to aid you in reading them more easily."

"I'm sure he could," Leslie said. "He doesn't write a lot of programs, but I know he used to do that quite a bit before he started Enstad Computer Services. I'll check with him. In the meantime, I presume this is my study guide."

"Yes, it is," said Roarke. "It's as clear as I could make it. You'll see that each symbol represents a letter of the Roman alphabet, or in some cases, a pair or group of letters. There are also a few here that denote sounds that don't exist in English or any other earthly tongue, but you need not worry about trying to pronounce anything. The main thing is that you learn to decipher the labels. I've written a few words on the back of the sheet, using these symbols. Your 'homework', if you will, is to write out their meanings in English. We'll work on it as time permits until you feel comfortable with them."

She nodded, then looked up curiously, her mind jumping several tracks. "Father…what happens after I've gotten some experience in potion-making? What do you plan to teach me then?"

Roarke seemed to consider it. "Well, you've already mastered the art of appearing and disappearing when necessary, during checkups on our guests. To tell you the truth, there is little more that I can teach you, because your abilities are limited. You've seen that I've made transformations which don't involve the use of potions or other substances. That involves abilities that you don't possess." He smiled at her. "Don't feel as if you fall short, Leslie. You make a fine assistant, the best I've had since Tattoo left. And for the record, Tattoo never graduated to mixing potions. You're advancing into skills that he had no particular interest in gaining, so consider this as a chance to improve your job performance."

"When you look at it that way, it sounds a little less daunting," Leslie kidded and grinned. "Okay. Well, I'll get a good look at this, and I'll ask Christian about coming up with the font program this evening. Just so long as we can put off the love-in-idleness excursion for a while." On his chuckle, she turned her attention to the page of symbols.

§ § § -- June 25, 2006

Christian's forty-eighth birthday fell on a Sunday, so that the weekend was busier than ever. The prince himself had pleaded in vain to let the date go by with little, if not a complete lack of, fanfare, and had eventually resigned himself to the party their friends had insisted on throwing for him in the side yard of the main house.

Fortunately, it hadn't been a big bash, with just their friends and the younger children attending. The school-aged ones were doing a nice job of keeping the preschoolers busy, while their parents sat around several tables pushed together and chatted. They had been relaxed all evening; Tabitha, though insisting she wouldn't miss the party for the world, had been feeling under the weather for a few days, and the others were accommodating her by just sitting with her, including her in the group. It had been a good day and an enjoyable party; even Christian had cheerfully admitted to it when playfully pressed.

By the time twilight began deepening the shadows, most of their friends had departed for home; Fernando and Tabitha remained behind, sitting with Christian and Leslie for a little longer and enjoying the last of Mariki's sangria. "I ought to give her my mother's recipe for this," Fernando remarked. "The authentic one with wine in it."

Tabitha groaned. "Ugh, don't even mention wine. Or anything else. This is perfect just the way it is. I can see why Leslie loves it so much."

Fernando grinned and smoothed her hair. "Just teasing, Tabbie." His grin faded and he let out a sigh. "If this keeps up I'm sending her to the doctor. I can't examine her, she's my wife. She'll have to go see one of the docs at the island hospital." He snorted. "For that matter, I've been having to send a lot of my patients there lately. My X-ray machine quit on me last week."

"Oh?" Christian looked up in surprise. "What happened?"

Fernando shrugged. "I'm not sure. That thing has hundreds of little interior parts that I have no clue about. And you know the worst of it, I'm gonna have to call all the way up to Hawaii and start pricing replacements. The thing's too old to be fixed, that's what the guy said when he came over from the camera shop in town."

"Camera shop!" echoed Leslie, laughing. "If they can advise you about X-ray machines, they should be selling the things too."

"Yeah, I'll agree with that," Fernando chuckled. "But he was the nearest thing this island has to an expert on these machines. I sort of wish the hospital were looking to replace one or two of theirs; I could just get one of the used ones and save myself a fortune that way. But that doesn't look too likely."

"Do you have enough money to cover the new machine?" asked Christian. "I know they must be ridiculously expensive."

"Almost all medical equipment is," Fernando confirmed through a sigh. "But since I treat mostly folks down the other end of the island, and since they don't usually have much in the way of cash, I don't have a lot stockpiled. Say, you think Mr. Roarke might have some ideas? He seems to know about everything there is to know about."

"Can't hurt to ask," Leslie said reasonably. "When he comes back out, go ahead and check with him. Come on, Tabitha, drink the rest of that. It'll make you feel better."

Tabitha rolled her eyes and laughed. "Just because you're hooked on the stuff, you think it's a miracle elixir. Well, all right, but we've got to get home afterward. I'm hoping that if I get a really good night's sleep, I'll feel better in the morning. Where are Cristina and Ramón?" She peered around the yard.

"Over there with the triplets." Leslie arose. "You stay there, I'll get them."

When she came back with the children, Roarke had come out from taking a phone call, and Fernando was in the middle of asking him about X-ray machines. Roarke listened thoughtfully, then smiled. "I believe I can place a few queries for you, Fernando. How are you getting on in the meantime?"

"I have to send people who need X-rays to the hospital. Luckily that's not too many, but it's a real inconvenience for both them and me. Anyway, thanks for the help, Mr. Roarke. The party was fun…happy birthday again, Christian. We've got to get on the road." Fernando signaled at his five-year-old son. "Come on, Ramón, you can play with Tobias another time, all right? Time to go home."

"Take that glass with you," Leslie urged Tabitha.

"You really do think it's a miracle elixir, don't you?" Tabitha asked, laughing.

Leslie grinned. "Can't hurt anything, right? I don't know, maybe I've got elixirs on the brain…I've been learning some new stuff for the job. Next weekend we're having a guest who's been blind since birth, who wants to be able to see his wife and baby. Father has to mix up a special potion, and he's been teaching me the last few weeks."

"Oh, that sounds like fun," said Tabitha wistfully. "Too bad you couldn't find one that would cure my stomach bug. And while we're at it, maybe something for my mother's killer migraines, too?"

Leslie laughed. "If Father came up with a permanent cure for migraines, cancer and the common cold, he'd be hands down the richest man in this entire solar system. As it is, his potions are all temporary. Remember, he's in the fantasy business, and fantasies by nature are ephemeral. Nothing lasts forever, and all that sort of thing."

"You don't think you could talk him into changing professions, do you?" Tabitha asked, and the two friends laughed. "It's a wonder as it is that people haven't mobbed him for decades, demanding that he cure all incurable diseases and find a way to stop folks from ever dying, and end hunger all over the world, and pull entire Third World countries out of their grinding poverty. Why don't they?"

"He made it clear a long time ago that he doesn't have the Great Panacea. No matter what he tries to put together, it's strictly temporary. That's the one big bug he'd have to work out if he were really going to attempt to tackle stuff like that. But even if he tried, he couldn't. I think it's because it was a condition of his business when he started it. It's very complicated and even I don't fully understand it, because it runs into ethical and moral issues, and I'm sure it'd spill over into religion too. People have started worldwide wars over lesser things than that. Imagine the madness that'd spring up."

Tabitha winced. "Oooh…I see your point. It's a shame human beings can't be more rational and responsible, and less greedy and selfish and superstitious. Well, let's get off the subject…it's too heavy for an occasion like a birthday. I'd better go or Fernando and the kids will leave without me. See you later, Leslie, and tell Christian happy birthday for me again."

"Will do. Good night," Leslie said, and watched her go to Fernando's green medical jeep to catch up with him and their children. Christian came up beside her, toting a girl by each hand, while Tobias yelled and waved after Ramón as the Ordoñezes pulled away.

"It sounded as if you and Tabitha were having a very earnest discussion," he remarked casually, releasing Susanna's hand when she pulled loose and stretched up her arms at Leslie to be picked up. "You seemed quite serious over here."

"Oh, it wasn't as heavy as it looked," Leslie said, chuckling and hoisting Susanna up. "Just some theoretical stuff, and Tabitha asked me to pass on a last birthday wish." Susanna's yawn caught her attention. "Well, young lady, looks like you're ready for bed. Did Daddy's birthday party wear you out?"

"More tate, Mommy?" Susanna asked hopefully.

Christian snorted. "Never say die, hm? No, _lillan min,_ perhaps tomorrow, but not right now. You and Tobias and Karina are off to bed for the night."

"Good thing too," Leslie murmured to him as they started for the house. "There isn't any left!" Christian chuckled appreciatively; the birthday cake Mariki had baked in honor of the day had been a sumptuous creation bursting with tropical fruit surrounded by rich cinnamon-vanilla cake, and it had been a smash hit with everyone at the party, even the pickiest of the children.

The following morning, after he and Leslie had seen their guests off on the departing charter, Roarke made a few phone calls, but was unable to locate a new machine for Fernando. He relayed this to Tabitha, who was holding down the fort while Fernando was out answering a call from the fishing village. Just as he hung up from this call, Christian let out a quiet but triumphant exclamation in _jordiska_ from the computer where he had been sitting all morning. "Finally!" he exulted and turned to his father-in-law. "Mr. Roarke, that font program you asked me for is ready at last. I've never written one of those before, so I really had to dig around to research how to do it. In fact, I went so far as to consult a few professors at Premier University—at least two of them were former instructors of mine. They gave me some pointers and helped me work out a number of snags, and it seems that this thing is finally working."

"Excellent, Christian, thank you very much!" Roarke said, brightening. "It will be extremely helpful in my relabeling project. I deeply appreciate your efforts."

Christian grinned. "I'll have to apologize for holding up Leslie's study of the characters, though. I had to steal her master sheet in order to write the code that connects each symbol to the corresponding keyboard letter. Those without keyboard equivalents can be accessed through the shift option, as if you were typing a capital letter. If you have a few minutes, I can show you how it works."

Christian was still giving Roarke the initial tutorial in using the new "font" when Leslie came in through the French shutters. She paused behind them and smiled when she realized what they were doing. "So tell me, Father, do I need to learn those things on the keyboard too, then?"

Roarke and Christian looked around, both smiling when they saw her. "I don't think it will be necessary, no," Roarke said. "However, if it does in fact become so, I can tell you that Christian made the font as easy to access as he possibly could. It shouldn't take you too long to learn which characters are tied to which keys."

"And I think you're ready to put it to use," Christian said, rising from the chair. "Well, my Rose, I guess I'd better get into the office. There's a backlog of mechanical repairs and I promised my staff I'd come in and help clear it out."

"Thank you again, Christian," Roarke said. "I'll see to it that Leslie passes on payment to you for your time and effort."

Christian shrugged it off. "That isn't necessary."

"Indeed it is; you went to a great deal of trouble, and it would hardly be fair if I allowed it to go uncompensated. You'll have it by the end of the day."

"If you truly insist, then I suppose at some point it would become rude of me to refuse. All right then, I'll see you both at lunch." Christian kissed Leslie before departing, and a few minutes later Roarke took his leave as well to see to the usual Monday cleanup, leaving Leslie alone in the study. She settled behind the desk and looked over the paperwork there, then began deftly sorting through the mail.

She was well into this about forty minutes later when Tabitha came in the door. "Hi, Leslie," she said a little tentatively, "is Mr. Roarke around?"

"No, he's doing routine errands," said Leslie, settling back and making a _come-here_ motion at her. "Come on in and sit down…anything I can do for you?"

Tabitha looked faintly scared, Leslie thought, watching her friend take one of the leather chairs. She drew in a deep breath, then cleared her throat. "I came to, uh, ask you for a favor. A really big favor, I'm afraid…so I'm prepared to pay for it. I scraped together four hundred dollars."

"What for?" Leslie asked, mystified.

"Well…we were talking about this last evening, after Christian's party, and then I got the rest of the idea from one of Ramón's comic books. I thought if I came and asked you and Mr. Roarke, it might actually work. Leslie…" She sucked in another breath, looked intently at her lap and sighed before asking something in a nearly inaudible squeak.

"Sorry, I didn't hear that," Leslie prompted gently, leaning forward.

When Tabitha looked up again, her face was brilliant carmine and filled with embarrassed pleading. "Do you think Mr. Roarke would agree to make up a potion for Fernando, so that he could have X-ray vision?"

Leslie blinked once in sheer astonishment. Her first impulse was to laugh, because it did sound inspired by a comic book. After a moment of scrolling through, and discarding, possible responses, she finally came up with, "You know it'd be only temporary, don't you?"

"Of course," Tabitha said. "Just till he can get a replacement for the broken-down machine. But at least this way he wouldn't have to keep sending patients all the way up here to the hospital."

Leslie sat back, still amazed, her mind beginning to work again and churning up all kinds of questions. "But…how could he take pictures of what he sees? I mean, that's the whole point of having a machine like that—to take pictures of people's insides and look over them at leisure to see what's wrong with them. There'd be no way Fernando could record what he saw."

Tabitha squirmed and got even redder. "He's good at descriptive writing. Or he could tape-record himself describing what he sees when he uses it…"

"And what happens when he doesn't need it?" Leslie went on. "I mean, everything he saw, under the influence of the potion, would look like he'd seen it through an X-ray machine, and I have a feeling it'd annoy him at the very least. It might even make him physically sick."

The extra color drained from Tabitha's face so fast it was as if someone had flipped a switch. "Are you really sure that's what would happen? He'd never see anything but X-rays if he took the potion, till it wore off?"

Leslie caught herself before responding, hesitating a moment; while somehow Roarke had yet to receive a request for this particular ability, she had a feeling he'd find a way for the user of any such potion to turn the X-ray vision on and off at will. "Well, maybe not…I'd have to talk to Father about it. But there _is_ that possibility, though."

Tabitha closed her eyes and groaned a little. "Oh no. And here I thought I had such a wonderful idea, too. It really sounded as if it'd solve the problem till we could get a new machine." She looked forlornly at Leslie. "I suppose Mr. Roarke would have turned me down as well, do you think?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, but I think it's a good bet he'd have brought up the same questions I did. Listen, tell you what, I can pass on your question to him, just to see what he says about it. But don't get your hopes up."

Tabitha slowly arose, still looking a bit pale. "Well, all right. Thanks for hearing me out, and for trying, Leslie."

"Hey, that's what friends are for," Leslie said with a smile, and watched her friend shuffle out of the house. She picked up a stack of envelopes, then paused and thought about the whole concept of having X-ray vision. It wasn't entirely unlike having such abilities as becoming invisible and appearing or disappearing at will. _Heck,_ she thought, _even Superman wasn't stuck seeing literally everything as if it were behind an X-ray machine, was he? _She didn't know much about the character, but she suspected he was able to control access to the ability at any time. There was no reason Roarke couldn't work that into the potion.

She was still considering it when Roarke came in. "Are you all right, Leslie?" he asked.

She sat up with a jerk. "Oh, I'm fine, Father. Uh…I was just thinking. Suppose somebody asked you to grant a fantasy to have X-ray vision, like Superman. Would that be possible? I mean, could you put something in the potion so they weren't seeing through every single thing they laid eyes on?"

Roarke stared at her for a moment, then smiled in amusement. "Someone came to you asking for such a fantasy, did they?"

Leslie made a face. "I hate it when you do that." He simply grinned, and she began gathering together piles of mail. "To be totally honest, Tabitha asked for it on Fernando's behalf. I guess he can't locate a replacement for his broken machine, and she thought it would make a good interim solution till he does find one."

"That could take weeks or even months," Roarke observed, frowning. "I couldn't continue to administer a potion over that length of time."

"Why not?" Leslie asked, seeing a chance to learn something new.

"It could be dangerous," Roarke said, taking her place in his chair as she vacated it and moved to one of the leather chairs. "While the potion itself would be temporary by nature and necessity, as all potions are, taking it over a substantial length of time could cause the user to become overly dependent on it."

"You mean addicted, like to a drug?" Leslie asked in alarm.

"Not like that, no. When I say 'dependent', I mean that the person taking the potion might become too accustomed to the new ability and not wish to give it up when the time came to do so. Not only that, but there could be physical effects, over a long duration of taking the formula."

"Oh, I see," Leslie murmured. To her surprise, she was disappointed on Tabitha's behalf. "Well, it was a thought."

Roarke was quiet for a moment or two, and she began sifting through the envelopes again. Then the phone rang and the subject was put aside altogether, while Leslie wondered what she was going to tell Tabitha. For that matter, she wondered if Tabitha had told Fernando she meant to do this at all.


	3. Chapter 3

§ § § -- June 29, 2006

By Thursday, both Roarke and Leslie had completely forgotten about Tabitha's visit, and Leslie had been diligently studying the symbols used on the potion labels while Roarke set about replacing the labels in question. She had reached the point at which she was able to transliterate the names of the various elixirs Roarke used, though the words written in familiar Roman letters made no more sense to her than they had in their original script. It was simply a matter of being able to read what she saw, and Roarke had felt that she would gain the ability more readily if she wrote out the names in an alphabet she knew.

Then someone came into the foyer without knocking, and they looked up at the same time to see Fernando standing there, looking a bit uncertain. "Good morning, Dr. Ordoñez," said Roarke. "May we do anything for you?"

Fernando focused on him. "Funny," he remarked with amused irony, "you sound as if you're begging me to do you the great favor of letting you give me something you don't want to give me." Leslie stilled in her chair, the sudden feeling sluicing through her that she knew what Fernando was about to ask for.

Roarke, though, instead of turning him down outright, motioned him into the study and offered him a seat. "So you are still having trouble locating a new machine, and you're hoping to obtain the use of a potion that will give you…'X-ray vision'."

The doctor stared at him for a moment, then rolled his eyes. "Tabbie says you have a habit of mind-reading, but I didn't believe her till now."

Roarke laughed. "Leslie told me about your wife's visit several days ago, doctor. Did she also mention to you that Leslie had to turn her down?"

"Of course she did, but I had to try again for myself. The situation's a little different now. I've gotten a machine, but it won't arrive till the middle of next month, and some of my patients have started complaining about the time and trouble they have to go to in order to get X-rays at the hospital. And more importantly, there are a few folks whose situations are getting critical, and I need to know what the problem is right now. I can't wait another two and a half weeks. I wouldn't ask this otherwise, Mr. Roarke. This really is an urgent matter, and I'll need it only till the machine gets in. Tabbie said she managed to come up with a few hundred dollars. We still have the money at hand if you'll agree to do it."

Roarke didn't seem particularly moved by his plea. "Doctor, as I understand it, Leslie brought up several pertinent questions when Mrs. Ordoñez initially raised the request last weekend. I am afraid I must repeat them here. How, precisely, would you obtain a record of what you saw through X-ray vision? Surely you're aware that you cannot take photographs of the afflictions you discover."

"I've always taken meticulous notes to keep in my patients' records. There's no reason I can't do that in this case too." Fernando sounded stubborn.

"Indeed. And are you sure that you could handle having the ability without undue discomfort?" Roarke saw Fernando's perplexed look and clarified, "You may not realize this, but it isn't easy to adjust to a new ability that the human body did not evolve on its own. You may find yourself nauseated by the ability to see the same things your new machine will see. You may have headaches or other minor symptoms, or you may find yourself completely unable to function with the ability."

Fernando looked astonished. "Do you really think that's what would happen?"

"Perhaps not, but there is always the possibility," Roarke said. "The question is whether you feel you can handle it, and are willing to take the risk."

"Oh, I'm willing," Fernando said, that stubborn look back about him. "All I need it for is fifteen or sixteen days."

"Long enough," said Roarke, "for you to grow so accustomed to it that you may decide you can't live without it."

"I think you're making excuses," Fernando said. "I wouldn't even ask you this if I didn't feel as though I had no other option, and right now I just don't. Look, Mr. Roarke, I don't want this for myself. I want it so I can do the job my patients expect me to do. I want it so that I can do the best I can with their cases and try to help them, to find out what's wrong so that I can treat it. If it were just for me…I'd find a way to resist temptation."

Roarke chuckled a little, looking vaguely skeptical, but letting it pass. "Even the most altruistic humans are subject to temptation," he observed, as if dropping some sage piece of wisdom. "However, I have never had reason before to think that you would do this sort of thing for any reason other than to help others. I am told that the inhabitants of the fishing village are most grateful for and appreciative of your services, and they value you and what you do very highly indeed." He sat up and leaned over the desk. "So, doctor, I am therefore granting your request. When you are ready to take delivery of the potion, let me know."

"Fantastic. I'll get the money and bring it back here. Do you think you can have the potion ready by four this afternoon?"

Roarke considered it. "I believe so. I do have other tasks to handle, of course, so Leslie will be here alone, but she will have the potion ready for you."

"That's wonderful. Thank you, Mr. Roarke. _Muchas, muchas gracias."_ Fernando, beaming with relief, jumped out of his chair and headed out the door.

"I'm amazed you agreed to it," Leslie remarked.

Roarke looked curiously at her. "Are you? Well, perhaps you should try to put that amazement aside for a while, for you have a job to do. I have far too many errands to run this afternoon and won't have time for anything else; so if we are to deliver on that request and earn the pay that was offered, you will have to be the one to concoct the formula."

Leslie thought the world tipped aslant and actually grabbed the arm of her chair. Her eyes felt as though they were preparing to burst forth from her face. _"Me?!"_

"Yes," Roarke said with a firm nod. "Don't worry, I'll leave you the recipe for the formula. Be warned, however—you must follow it _exactly._ So exactly that there will be no room for error. Even the slightest deviation from my instructions, and there may be dire consequences that even I cannot control or reverse." He peered curiously at her. "Are you all right? You've suddenly become quite pale."

"Father…you can't be serious," Leslie croaked, panic making her lightheaded. "I've barely started studying. I still have trouble reading that alphabet. I haven't even tried making the simplest potion yet, and…and you want me to do this? Especially when you've never made it up yourself?"

"What makes you so certain I've never mixed the formula?" Roarke retorted with a quirk that Leslie figured was supposed to be a wry smile. "Just because you happened not to be here at the time…"

"Okay, whatever. But I can't believe you're trusting me to do this. I'm a complete greenhorn. A total neophyte. An utter newbie. An absolute begin—"

Roarke lifted a hand, silencing her in mid-word. "How else are you to learn if you don't make the attempt yourself? Remember, Leslie, if you follow the recipe exactly as I have written it, the results will be correct and you'll have nothing to fear." He smiled at her. "I have faith and confidence in you."

"I wish I had faith and confidence in myself," Leslie mumbled weakly, already beginning to wonder whether she'd be able to hold down lunch. She saw, out of the corner of her eye, the gently reproachful look he gave her, but ignored it, already feeling the effects of the party the butterflies were throwing in her gut.

"You don't look good at all, Leslie," Christian said frankly at lunch, which they were having without Roarke, who had had to get started on the errands he'd mentioned. "Why aren't you eating anything? You're usually hungry at lunch."

Leslie shot a glance down the veranda and pleaded, "Don't tell Mariki, whatever you do. She'll hound me for the rest of the meal." She sighed heavily and pushed some fruit around on her plate. "Drat it…Christian, Father's left me in charge of mixing up a potion."

Christian paused in enormous surprise and blinked at her, then broke into a huge grin. "Well, that's wonderful, my Rose! I should think you'd take it as a compliment!"

"Are you kidding?" she exclaimed, gaping at him.

"Of course not. Don't you see? It means you must be doing so well learning about potions and their construction that he trusts you to complete one of his formulas without any help from him. I think that's spectacular. Congratulations."

"Huh. You think it's so fantastic because you're not the one who has to do it. You don't understand. This isn't something quick and straightforward—one part elixir to however many parts water. This has more than one ingredient in it."

"Oh? What's it for?"

"X-ray vision," she said reluctantly.

Christian laughed. "Oh, I like that. Well, surely he's told you how to do it."

"Yeah, well, he told me he'd leave me a recipe and warned me to follow it exactly, so I don't wind up causing horrible consequences and stuff we never intended. But having that much responsibility on my shoulders is seriously scary. I'm gonna have to have my cheat sheet so I can make sure I know what ingredients I'm putting into the thing, and I hope the proper equipment is down there so I don't overload the stuff with any one ingredient…"

"You have to be the worst worrier I've ever known." Christian put his fork down to give her his full exasperated attention. "Why don't you have any faith in yourself? Nervousness, I can understand. We all have that. Outright terror, well, that's something else again. If Mr. Roarke is leaving you detailed, precise instructions, and if you follow them exactly as he wrote them, then for fate's sake, you'll have nothing to worry about. It seems absurdly simple to me."

"Well then, if you're so sure it'll be so easy, why don't you do it?" she retorted, her patience running out. "Christian, can't you see, I'm dealing with magic here!"

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, picking up his fork again. "You baffle me sometimes, as much as I love you. If I dare ask, who is this for?"

"Fernando," she admitted through another sigh.

Christian paused again and looked up, then grinned. "Oh really? Still couldn't find a new X-ray machine, then? I must say, that's an ingenious solution. You'll be helping out a friend, Leslie, so why the balking?" He peered at her and then leaned over a little to study her more closely. "Or is it because it's for someone we know, rather than one of your regular guests? Are you afraid of repercussions if something goes wrong?"

"I'd be afraid of repercussions no matter who it was. But somehow I'd just feel worse if something happened to Fernando that wasn't supposed to. A guest knows he has to face whatever odd curves his fantasy throws at him. This isn't a fantasy for Fernando. He's just doing this till his new machine gets in—which isn't till mid-July."

"Ah, I see. So he didn't do it just for the hell of it," Christian said humorously. "He has a purpose. Well, I suppose I can understand your worries, but I still think you're overreacting. You do have a tendency to do that, you know." He winked at her and popped a bite into his mouth, reaching over with a napkin and blotting at Tobias' chin.

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead and make jokes," Leslie muttered. "We'll see just how well, or how badly, I do this. My first time ever. I can't believe Father's letting me do this."

"That doesn't deserve a response," Christian snorted. "I'm tired of trying to argue sense into you. Just eat your lunch, at least, so that when you start making the potion, you won't have shaky hands that might add too much of something to the formula." He blithely ignored her filth-riddled glare and continued eating.

However, when lunch ended and it came time for Christian to take the triplets back upstairs, where he would watch them till Haruko returned from her own lunch at home, he relented and caught her hand as they were about to leave the table. "I have no doubt you'll do just fine," he said.

She stared plaintively up at him. "I feel like I'm being tested."

"Oh, this is no test, my Rose. I know, because if it were, Mr. Roarke wouldn't be letting you hand it over to an innocent human being. He has faith in you, I have faith in you, and I think it's time _you_ had faith in you. Now go and mix up that potion." He kissed her, smiled, then smoothed her hair before grinning at the waiting children. "Well, you three, let's go and wait for Haruko, hmm? Hurry, up the stairs now!"

Leslie watched them go, her stomach fluttering dangerously, and then blew out her breath when she was sure her husband wouldn't overhear her doing it. She ventured into the study, peered at Roarke's desk, and sighed when she saw the sheet of paper with her name on it in his handwriting. She picked it up, unfolded it and looked it over; his instructions were indeed extremely precise, somewhat to her relief. The grandfather clock read about five minutes past one; she had just under three hours in which to prepare the formula. "Okay, Leslie, here goes nothing," she mumbled and headed slowly for the stairs that ran up to the bell tower and down to the cellar, feeling her mouth going drier with every step. At the last moment she veered off to the kitchen to pour herself some mango nectar before finally giving in to the inevitable and making her foray down the stairs.

It took her nearly fifteen minutes just to find the four ingredients that went into the potion according to Roarke's "recipe", because she had to meticulously match each and every symbol in the names of all four elixirs before she was satisfied that she'd found the correct ones. When she'd gathered the bottles and set them on the stainless-steel table in the middle of the room, she paused, took a few deep breaths, and then read the next item on the instruction list. She needed to find a small bowl, a clean vial, a dropper, and a pure-silver spoon with which Roarke always mixed his potions. She remembered asking why it had to be that particular spoon, and he had said that pure silver was the only metal that didn't react with the elixirs.

A few minutes later she had all these things on the table also, along with a large clear jug of distilled water that Roarke used in nearly every potion he made. Most of the elixirs, he had taught her, were very strong in and of themselves, and needed to be diluted so that the desired effect would be produced without posing a danger to the person who took it. It made perfect sense to her; at least, she thought dismally, it had when she was merely the onlooking student and Roarke was the teacher who was actually making the stuff. It had been fascinating watching him putting together the potion for their blind guest who would be arriving in a couple of days; now it was just terrifying.

"Well, come on, dummy," she finally chided herself after catching herself matching up all the elixir names again. "If you didn't get it right the first time after all that checking, then you're just plain hopeless. Get on the stick." She peered at the instruction sheet again. The first step in the actual construction of the potion advised her to place ten drops of one of the elixirs into the bowl. Once again she carefully matched up the string of symbols on the page to the string on the bottle label before picking it up and squinting at it. It was deep cherry-red in color and, when she held it up to the light, sent shafts of red glinting onto the opposite wall. She chuckled softly and unscrewed the cap, setting it carefully aside, before dipping the dropper into the bottle and filling it. Out loud she counted the ten drops that fell into the bowl, before squeezing out the remainder back into the bottle and recapping it.

"One down, three to go, not counting the water," she mumbled, without consciously registering the fact that she was speaking her thoughts aloud, and peered at the next item on the list. She gulped down some of her mango nectar to alleviate her persistent dry throat before measuring out the required amount of the second elixir.

"So far so good," she said, feeling more cheerful and confident as she went. It didn't take her long to add the third and fourth ingredients; each one was some shade of red, so that when she viewed them all combined in the bowl, they resembled the color she had seen carnations dyed. Curiosity prompted her to lean forward and take a cautious sniff of the contents of the bowl, but there was no odor. She shrugged and went to the next item on the list. She was to add exactly six ounces of water to the mixture, and she would find the appropriate measuring cup on the shelf beneath the table surface. She located this in short order and, with great care, measured out six ounces, then poured the water into the bowl. She didn't notice a minute drop leap out of the bowl when the water hit it, nor did she see where it landed.

She stirred the stuff as thoroughly as possible, then poured the mixture into the little glass vial and capped it tightly, lifting the finished potion to the light and examining it. It now had the color of rosé wine. There was one more item on the list, which made her laugh when she read it. It said, _Congratulations, you've completed a potion! _ "Cool," she said aloud and grinned, then slipped the vial into her pocket and carefully cleaned up the workspace, replacing all the bottles where she had found them, washing out the bowl, measuring implements and spoon, and then gathering up her glass and the instruction sheet and heading up the stairs feeling pretty good about herself and her accomplishment.

To her surprise, Christian was in the study, tinkering with the computer there. He looked around when he heard her footsteps and brightened. "Well, hi there, my Rose," he said. "You certainly look cheerful."

"Ta-da!" Leslie said grandly, whipping the vial out of her pocket and displaying it at him. "My first potion!"

"Now there you go, see? It must not have been so difficult after all," Christian said, grinning. He arose, came to her and kissed her. "What's in the other glass?"

"Oh, just some mango nectar I got before I went down," she said and swallowed some of it. "I had an awful case of dry mouth. Anyway, it's all over and done with—at least the mixing part is. The question now is if it'll do what it's supposed to do."

Christian laughed a little with resignation. "Kill off one worry, find another. I refuse to get into an argument over that one. I have something else to worry about myself."

"What's wrong with the computer?" Leslie asked.

"Nothing's really wrong with it," Christian said, "but Mr. Roarke asked me to take a look at it and see if it needs defragging, so I agreed to do it after lunch. I just waited for Haruko to come back before I started. The defragging process is going fine, but it's running much too slowly for my taste, and I was trying to find out what else was going on before I give up and start taking it apart."

"Oh, I see. Maybe it's that new font," Leslie mused, draining the last of her juice. "Well, I'd better take this back to the kitchen. Good luck, my love. Be back in a minute."

When she returned, Christian was arching back in his chair, eyes closed, trying to reach an unreachable spot on his back and grimacing. His muttered _jordiska_ curses made Leslie blink. "You okay?"

"I just got a pain in my back, and I can't reach the damned thing," Christian complained. _"Aj, det slår mej…"_

Leslie squinted at him and instantly spotted the problem. "You've got a muscle cramp, that's what," she said. "I'll fix it." She zeroed in on the trouble spot and began working it out with her thumbs; a couple of minutes later Christian breathed out with relief and relaxed, groaning. "Better?"

"Much," he said and smiled at her over his shoulder. "I appreciate it." Then the smile vanished, replaced by surprise. "How did you know where it was, when I couldn't reach it to show you the exact spot?"

"Oh, I just looked and happened to see through—" The sentence died right there; Leslie froze in place, gawking at the wall, horror sluicing through her.

"Say that again?" Christian requested, rising slowly, looking a little alarmed at her expression. "You saw through—?"

Slowly her shocked eyes turned to him. "Saw through your skin to the muscle," she whispered. "I could see it, Christian, the muscle itself!"

Now he froze too, and they stared at each other. Behind her the grandfather clock chimed out the half-hour, and they both looked at it. "Two-thirty," Christian muttered. "And Fernando is supposed to come for that potion in another hour and a half, right?"

Leslie released a little shriek and slammed a hand over her mouth, gulping several times and closing her eyes. Christian stared at her, making the connections, then gasped. "You didn't."

Her eyes flew open and she began to hyperventilate. "I must have! Somehow I got a dose of that potion!"

"But how? Don't tell me you sampled it before you bottled it for Fernando," Christian said in disbelief.

"No, I didn't dare!" Leslie cried frantically. "I was too scared to! Besides, it wasn't for me, it's for him! No, I didn't!"

"Calm down, my Rose. All right then…" Christian considered it. "You had a glass of mango juice or something, didn't you? Somehow it must have ended up in that."

"But I can't imagine how!" Leslie protested, half panicking.

"Well, think back," Christian urged. "Go over all the steps in your head. Do you still have Mr. Roarke's instructions? Take the paper out and go through it, if that'll help."

She fished it out of the pocket containing the vial and unfolded it with badly shaking hands; Christian took it from her and read off each step one by one, watching her think and then shake her head. "This isn't working," she groaned.

"Now hold on, you haven't gone through them all yet," he admonished her. "Step seven: add exactly six ounces of water."

She closed her eyes and replayed the scene as she remembered it. "I measured it out, I poured it into the bowl…" She stopped there and frowned, then opened her eyes and looked at him. "Maybe that's when it happened. That is, when I poured the water in. I seem to remember that when the water hit the elixir mix, it made a little bit of a splat…but I didn't really think about it. I barely noticed it."

"That must be it," Christian said. "You must have had your juice glass nearby, and when the water hit the other ingredients, a drop must have landed in your juice." He shook his head, then suddenly grinned. "So now you have X-ray vision too."

"_Eeeewwww!!"_ she blurted and shuddered from head to toe, so visibly that he burst out laughing and hugged her in reassurance. "Oh my God, Christian…it's one thing to give X-ray vision to someone else, but to have it yourself—!"

"I'm sure I can imagine it," he said, though in truth he couldn't. "Well, look at the bright side, my Rose. According to this, all the elixirs were mixed up before you added the water and made it splash like that, so that means that the ingredient that allows you to turn the vision on and off is also in the blend. So it's not as if you'll have to see the guts of everyone and everything, all the time, till it wears off."

"Oh, yippee," she muttered, twirling a finger in the air, and he laughed and hugged her again. She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, hoping Roarke would be back before Fernando arrived to pick up the potion.

Unfortunately, this wasn't the case. She endured ninety minutes of consciously trying not to activate her unwanted new ability, except for when Christian asked her to take a look through the computer tower so that she could tell him if there was some foreign object in there that he might have to remove. It was easier for her to look into the guts of the machine than it would have been a person, which gave her a little consolation, but she wasn't sure she had mastered the "on-off switch" for the stuff and ended up simply sitting at the desk with her head pillowed on her arms and her eyes closed.

The grandfather clock chimed four times, and within seconds the inner-foyer door opened and Fernando came in. "Oh, hi there, Christian, how's things?" Fernando inquired genially when he saw the prince.

"Just fine, Fernando, and you?" Christian asked, rising and shaking hands with the doctor as Leslie reluctantly raised her head and looked fixedly at a spot past Fernando.

"Great. Is the potion ready?" Fernando asked, extracting an envelope from a pocket of the white lab coat he was still wearing and holding it out to Leslie.

She nodded, still without looking at him, and shifted her gaze to Roarke's date book, which lay open in front of her and showed the month of August. "Yup, here you go. Enjoy." She held it out to him without looking up, pretending to be engrossed in the date book.

"Thanks…uh, you okay, Leslie?" Fernando asked uncertainly.

"Yep, just busy," she said, still staring determinedly at the page.

She heard Christian sigh. "Leslie, look at my hand," he said. Automatically she looked up, and he prompted pointedly, "What do you see?"

"Your hand," she said blankly.

"Anything else?" he persisted.

Suddenly she got the message he was trying to send her and smiled at him in profound relief before at last meeting Fernando's gaze. "No, just your hand. Anyway, Fernando, I'm sorry, I've been…uh, kind of distracted all afternoon. Enjoy the potion."

Fernando took the vial from her hand and examined its contents. "Nice color. So this stuff is gonna allow me to get a look at people's insides, huh? I sure hope it works."

"Oh, believe me, it works perfectly," Leslie assured him, nodding so hard that Christian had to squelch a grin. "Money-back guarantee."

Fernando glanced at her in surprise and amusement, then grinned. "Well, that's a first for the fantasy business, I bet." He dropped the envelope on the desk in front of her. "I really appreciate the effort you and Mr. Roarke went to, Leslie. Tell him thanks for me, will you?"

"I will," she promised. "Incidentally, he left directions on dosage—no more than a small sip at a time, and you'll have the ability for about ten hours. Considering the length of your workday, I'd suggest taking just one sip a day right before you start your workday, and don't take any on your days off. It'll last longer that way. But if you do run out, just let us know and we'll mix up some more for you."

"Terrific. Thanks again, Leslie. Good seeing you, Christian," Fernando said, and departed on their farewells.

"Thanks for making me look," Leslie said when he was safely gone. "I wasn't sure I could control the on-off mechanism in the potion, and I didn't have any particular desire to see Fernando's insides."

Christian laughed aloud and shook his head. "I understand, but I thought I should remind you that you've actually used it only twice. You haven't seen through things otherwise, have you?"

"No, but it took your reminder to make me realize that." She settled slowly back in Roarke's chair, then frowned. "I told Fernando a dose would last about ten hours. But I don't know how long I'll be afflicted with this. I mean, first of all, I probably got just a tiny little droplet. And second, it was full strength, before I diluted it with the water. So I guess there's no telling when it'll wear off for me."

Christian shrugged. "Seems to me that the droplet, even at full strength, would have been diluted by your juice, so you'll probably have it about as long as Fernando will. Mind you, that's only an educated guess. But you never know, my Rose. You might find a way to put it to good use before you lose it." He winked at her and returned to the computer.

She peered at him, frowned a little and slowly closed the date book, reaching absently for a new stack of mail. She wouldn't have this ability for very long, but she had a feeling already that she might have some inkling of what she could do with it. She smiled to herself, made a decision, and plucked a letter opener out of a desk drawer, ready to go on reading fantasy requests.


	4. Chapter 4

§ § § -- June 29, 2006

Christian was still examining the computer, and Leslie had gone through three stacks of mail, when Roarke came in. "Ah, good, there you are, Leslie," he said and greeted Christian before turning to his daughter. "I'm glad I found you here. I have a little unexpected free time, and I think we should put it to good use. Come with me, we'll get some of the love-in-idleness blossoms."

"Right now?" Leslie asked, surprised.

"Yes. We'd better hurry, I have only a little time." Roarke took a key from the gold box on the desktop while Leslie stood up, casting a glance at Christian.

"Is that the actual flower from the Shakespeare play?" Christian asked, as if on cue.

"Indeed it is," Roarke confirmed. He smiled. "William Shakespeare was a much more open-minded man than most people realize. He was not just a linguistic genius, but he also knew of many things that are now dismissed as pure fiction." He extracted his gold pocket watch and checked it carefully. "Hurry, Leslie, there's little time to waste."

"I'd go with you; it sounds like fun," Christian observed, "but unfortunately this thing seems to be choosing this day to be a mechanical hypochondriac. I'll monitor things here if you like, Mr. Roarke."

"That will be fine, thank you, Christian. We should be gone no more than an hour or so," Roarke said. "Come, Leslie…" He paused when he realized Leslie was already standing in the inner foyer, lifted his brows in surprise for a moment, then dismissed it. Leslie waved to a grinning Christian on the way out the door.

"Well," Leslie remarked as she settled into the jeep's passenger seat, "this should be really interesting. Maybe I could even take a plant or two back with me and have Rogan add it to our home garden."

Roarke eyed her askance for a moment, starting the vehicle. "It's a warm day," he pointed out. "Are you prepared?"

"I'm just fine, Father," Leslie assured him, making herself comfortable in her seat. "It seems like a good day to go love-in-idleness hunting, doesn't it? Nice and bright, not too hot or humid."

She had a feeling she might have gone too far when suspicion flitted across Roarke's features. "That's quite the turnaround," he observed.

She contrived an innocent look. "How so?"

"For several weeks, ever since I first mentioned it, you've been less than enthusiastic about the venture. Now that we're actually embarking upon it, suddenly you appear to be looking forward to it. Don't think I don't appreciate the change in attitude, but I find myself somewhat confused as to the reason."

"Oh, well…I guess I've sort of gotten curious about it. I mean, I can still remember your telling Julie that it grows here, and I realized it's kind of weird that I never did get to see a specimen. Maybe you could say I'm considering it…uh…a new facet of my education."

Roarke's expression made her stomach do a slow somersault, but then he chuckled and remarked, "I'm surprised you do remember. At the time, you were under the influence of that sleeping potion Adam O'Cearlach mixed up, and literally falling asleep on your feet."

"I overheard that part before the potion overwhelmed my system again," Leslie said with a grin. "I still think of that as the lost period in my life. I mean, the whole time I was under that potion's influence, I never had a single dream."

"Very strange. Perhaps I'd better look into that sometime," Roarke mused. "But at the moment, we have other things to worry about."

Leslie couldn't deny the relief that spiraled through her when he let the conversation drop, and she watched the scenery flashing by as they traveled west along the northern arm of the Ring Road. After about twenty minutes Roarke slowed and piloted the jeep onto a lane that consisted of two dirt ruts, as far apart as the jeep's tires, separated by the ever-persistent greenery. "I've never seen this lane before," she said.

"That's because I keep it hidden from all other eyes," Roarke replied. "Even I myself access it only when necessary." He put his full concentration into coaxing the jeep along the jarring, pockmarked trail. Leslie, meantime, grew a little uneasy. The jungle had closed around them, a violently viridian soup that even turned the sunlight green; she shot a glance behind them and realized that in the fifteen seconds or so since they'd left the road, it had already been swallowed from their view. She was sure this had to be one of the places where the more dangerous wild animals took refuge, and found herself scanning the trees for the sinuous loops of snake bodies.

After some unfathomable distance, Roarke cranked the jeep hard to the right and stopped it. Now they faced what appeared to be a small sunlit meadow, filled with overgrown grasses that waved in the breeze. "This is it?" Leslie asked, staring across it.

"This is it," Roarke confirmed, cutting the engine. "Now, if you will, just follow me."

She slid out of her seat and trailed him obediently, though she frowned doubtfully when he waded directly into the grass, which seemed to part before him in the fabled manner of the Red Sea. She peered around her feet, but all she could see was grass, grass and more grass. "Are you really sure this is the right place?" she asked.

"Yes, this is the right place," Roarke assured her patiently. "One more moment." He continued to plow through the grass till they were in the center of the meadow; then he stopped, knelt and grasped a slender, pale-green stem, gently working it up from the ground till it broke off and left a microscopic green stump with the merest hint of a leaf attached to it. He then displayed the plant at Leslie. "This is what we are looking for."

She peered at it. It was an unprepossessing little flower, about the circumference of a dandelion bloom but adorned with exactly seven pale-pink petals, with cornflower-blue stripes, that radiated out from a deep-amethyst center. Each petal sprouted hair-thin from the middle and broadened the farther out it stretched; they all terminated in blunt, squared-off ends. "Well," she said with a grin, "maybe it won't be as hard to find as I thought. Never seen a flower quite like that one before."

Roarke smiled. "Good," he said. "Now, you saw how I removed it: I left part of the stem, with a budding leaf, behind." She nodded. "You _must_ leave that behind, or the flower cannot regenerate and produce a new bloom. They are rare enough as it is, and we don't wish to completely remove the plant. I want you to collect one hundred of these." He gave her a basket.

"A hundred?" Leslie echoed, astonished. "Why do you need so many?"

"Because they're so small," said Roarke, which wasn't quite what she'd meant when she asked the question. On her mild exasperation, he turned and started for the jeep. "I have faith in you, Leslie. If you need help, just call."

She kept a surreptitious eye on him and was relieved, in the end, to see him climb into the jeep's driver's seat and unfold what looked like that day's _Fantasy Island Chronicle_. "Oh, how nice you have some time to read," she muttered under her breath and looked at the basket, where the flower Roarke had picked lay forlornly in the bottom. "One down, 99 to go. Come on, Leslie Susan, let's do it." She drew in a breath, scanned the meadow around her, then cleared her throat and (just for safety's sake) turned her back on Roarke and the jeep before squinting deliberately through the grass in front of her. Sure enough, the X-ray vision kicked in, and almost immediately she could see the hollow-looking little stems of what appeared to be dozens of the flowers she was searching for. "Bingo!" she breathed, thrilled, and knelt in the grass, busily harvesting and keeping careful count.

She was a bit thirsty when she finished and felt as if she'd exerted herself to some extent, but she knew it could have been much worse. She sauntered back to the jeep, lifting out one of her gathered flowers and taking an experimental sniff as she went; it had a soft, delicate floral scent not far removed from roses, though the aroma had a way of dissipating in the breeze once she pulled the blossom more than an inch from her nose. "Hmm," she remarked as she climbed into the passenger seat of the jeep, "these smell really pretty."

"Don't sniff too deeply, or their power will begin to affect you," Roarke absently warned her, before frowning and then turning to stare at her. "You aren't finished already!"

"Yep. Here they are, all one hundred," Leslie said, showing him the basket.

"Impossible! In only fifteen minutes?" her father demanded, clearly incredulous.

"That's all it took," she said, smiling. "I mean, once you know what to look for, they're not really that hard to find. It's not as if they look like any other flower on earth."

"No," Roarke conceded, frowning in amazement at the contents of the basket. He studied them for a few seconds, then looked up at Leslie and shook his head a little. "You did indeed gather a full hundred. Though how you found them so quickly…"

"What, was I supposed to take all afternoon? I suppose if you want me to, I can go back out in the field there and hunt down some more…"

"No, that won't be necessary," he said, still staring at her.

"It gives you a little extra time, you know," she pointed out. "In case there's other stuff you need to do. You might even get ahead of schedule."

"Yes…" he said, drawing the word out in perplexity and letting it fade into the wind. Slowly he folded the paper, his eyes full of questions, before shaking his head one last time and starting the engine. "Here." He handed her the paper. "Use this to cover the basket so that we don't lose any of the flowers."

She did as ordered, feeling rather pleased with herself. _Christian was right; this really did come in handy. I wonder if Fernando will have any left over when his new machine gets in, so I can use it when I really need it, like I did today?_ She hummed softly to herself as they made their way back to the Ring Road; when Roarke shot her a bewildered look she stopped, suddenly worried she might be pushing her luck just a little too far, but unable to resist that feeling of smug accomplishment—even though she knew she was likely to pay for it later on.

§ § § -- June 30, 2006

"Mommy…Mommy, Mommy…" Leslie rolled over in bed on Friday morning and squinted blearily into her daughter Karina's anxious little face. The child lit up with hope when she saw Leslie awaken. "Mommy!"

"What's the matter, sweetie?" Leslie murmured, feeling the mattress undulating as Christian stirred behind her. "And how did you get out of your crib?"

"Aw gone, Mommy," Karina said earnestly. "No fine!"

"What's all gone?" Leslie prompted.

"Dowwy," Karina said. "Aw gone. Mommy fine it?"

Christian leaned over Leslie to stare at the little girl in amazement. "You little monkey," he said, "I'd love to know how you got out of that crib."

"Me too," Leslie remarked, peering up at him, and he grinned. "I guess we have to go hunt for her doll."

"Daddy fine too," Karina said, bobbing up and down.

Christian and Leslie dragged themselves out of bed and padded behind Karina to the triplets' room, yawning as they went. "I suppose that's one way to wake up," Christian mumbled sleepily. "I didn't happen to notice the time, did you?"

"I think it's going on seven," Leslie said, pausing in the hallway long enough to give her muscles a good stretch. "Well, young lady, let's see if we can figure out where your doll got off to."

"I hope we find it soon," Christian said. "I don't know how much help I'll be, without coffee in my system." Leslie laughed, and they followed Karina into the children's room and began to peer around in search of the missing doll. Tobias and Susanna, awakened by the movements, promptly answered Christian's earlier question by pushing in the buttons on their cribs that allowed them to lower the rail on one side, shoving the rails down and tumbling nimbly out onto the carpet. "Monkeys," he grumbled again.

"They might be ready for beds after this," Leslie mused, shaking her head. "As long as they're up, they can help. Okay, you two, find Karina's dolly."

It soon turned out the doll wasn't in the bedroom at all, and the search rapidly expanded to other parts of the house. In the living room, Leslie began to get frustrated and found herself scanning the sofa and matching chairs with deliberation—and shocking herself when she discovered she still had her X-ray vision! "Oh wow," she moaned softly to herself, then eyed the furniture again and shrugged. "Might as well make use of it."

By the time Christian arrived with the triplets right on his heels, she had assembled a small pile of odds and ends on the coffee table. Christian stopped short and gaped while the children ran to the kitchen to pester Ingrid, already making breakfast therein. "Where in fate's name did you find all that junk?" he exclaimed.

"In the sofa and chairs," Leslie said, glancing at the small pile. "If you're thinking of hunting for money, don't bother. I've already pocketed a dollar twenty-four in change."

"_Herregud,"_ he said, shaking his head. Suddenly he grinned and lowered his voice. "I suppose that means you're still affected by that potion."

"Seems so. That's how I found all this stuff. Of course," she added ironically, "X-ray vision or not, I still haven't found Karina's doll."

Christian laughed. "Some things never change, no matter what. Where else have you looked? I might try the guest suite."

"Good idea, no one's been in there yet," she said, and he headed off in that direction while she finished scavenging beneath the cushions. When he got back from a fruitless search, she had settled into the chair she'd just finished cleaning and was separating the uncovered items into several tiny heaps, her mind off on other tracks.

"What's wrong, my Rose?" he queried softly, squatting beside the chair to look into her face. "You seem preoccupied."

"I can't figure out why I still have the X-ray vision," she admitted through a sigh. "And I have no way of finding out. I mean, it's not as if I can ask Father."

Christian considered that. "Are you that afraid of getting into trouble?"

"I don't know," Leslie admitted, meeting his gaze. "I'm starting to feel sort of funny about it. I mean, I took advantage of it yesterday when we were picking those flowers, and I know he was wondering why it seemed so easy for me."

"Well, if you're feeling that guilty about it, can't you just explain it? After all, it was a complete accident, and he can hardly fault you for that."

"But he might be able to fault me for taking advantage of it. Look at me, I just did it again. All this stuff. Did you know you had that much crud in your pockets?"

Christian surveyed the things she had indicated as his and raised a startled eyebrow. "There's my pocketknife. I was never even aware it had fallen out. And I don't think I've ever seen the rest of that stuff before. Are you really sure it's mine?"

"Well, maybe the rest of it is Tobias's. It's just…if I knew how long I'm going to have this ability, I might be able to decide whether I should tell Father or not."

"Ach. I truly don't know, Leslie. I'm afraid it's up to you. But while we're here, you realize that the missing doll happens to be our daughter's favorite in all the world? She may be distracted right now by Ingrid's breakfast preparations, but you know full well she'll eventually remember it and start to drive us crazy about it. No matter what you think Mr. Roarke would say, my vote is for your taking all the advantage you can of this ability, even if you have to go through the entire house this way."

"Then in that case, make sure you and Ingrid and the kids stay out of my line of sight," Leslie warned ruefully. "If I see your walking skeletons, I'll probably have nightmares for months, and how would I ever explain _that_ to Father?"

"Perish the thought." Christian rose gracefully to a standing position, laughing. "All right, then, we'll stay in the kitchen, and I'll have Ingrid keep a plate warm for you."

A few hours later, in the main house, with Roarke handling the usual errands that he always did on the day right before a weekend, Leslie had to admit she was relieved that her father had left her to hold down the fort. She had managed to successfully locate Karina's doll, and since reporting for her usual workday at the main house, she had found herself unable to resist using her X-ray vision in her old bedroom (where she had found a long-lost piece of jewelry that she remembered Tobias having hurled across the room as a ten-month-old and which she had till that point given up on for good) and around the study—which, not at all to her surprise, was immaculate. It would have been impossible for it to be anything else, she reflected with a little grin.

She had let down her guard too much by now and was scanning the credenza for any misplaced papers when the inner-foyer door opened, shocking her into bolting upright and gaping wide-eyed in that direction. She released a slow breath of immense relief when she recognized Tabitha, Camille and Lauren. "Oh, it's just you."

"Expecting somebody else?" Lauren asked curiously.

"I was just afraid it was Father," Leslie said without thinking.

"You were _afraid_ it was?" Lauren echoed. She grinned as a light brightened her eyes. "Uh-oh, don't tell me, you're getting into Mr. Roarke's magical stuff again."

Leslie mock-glared at her. "Totally by accident," she said and explained, with some reluctance, what had happened the previous day. Her friends stared at each other in amazement; Camille's and Lauren's eyes began to light with what Leslie was sure must be a raft of ideas designed to take maximum advantage of her new ability, while Tabitha just stood there giggling madly behind one hand.

"This is the coolest thing on earth," Lauren exclaimed. "Leslie, could you do us a giant favor? There's so much missing stuff in our house…Kevin's a little thief, and we're still trying to break him of the habit. We'd be grateful forever if you could use your X-ray vision to help us find the stuff he's misplaced."

"Same in my house," Camille said, "except it's just the kids losing things. Harriet's no good for sniffing them out, so it's up to you."

Leslie snorted aloud and then eyed the still-giggling Tabitha. "Any requests from your corner of the island?"

"No," Tabitha chortled. "I just think it's funny. I mean, you mentioned telling Christian to keep himself and the kids out of sight while you were looking for Karina's doll. I'm starting to wish Fernando had a little of your squeamishness. I found out as soon as he got back home yesterday that I'm pregnant, thanks to _his_ X-ray vision."

"Oh, you're not either!" Lauren squealed and hugged her. "That's fabulous!"

"Yeah, congratulations," offered Camille. "Want a boy or a girl?"

"It doesn't matter to us; we already have one of each, so we're not choosy this time," said Tabitha.

"When are you due?" Leslie asked.

"Fernando figures I'm about a month along at this point, so he's estimating around the middle of next February. You know, come to think of it, maybe you should come on down and help us look for stuff too." Tabitha's dark eyes sparkled with mischief. "Heaven knows I won't be able to in a few months."

Leslie rolled her eyes and retorted, "Tell Fernando to use his own X-ray vision, thanks anyway. And listen, you guys know I can't leave here."

"It's Friday, not Saturday, isn't it?" Camille asked. "Where's Mr. Roarke?"

"Doing the usual Friday errands. I'm keeping the place manned till he gets back." She considered it. "It's not as if I'm doing anything really important, actually. I could leave him a note and go ahead…" She stopped and stared through the window in disbelief at herself. "I can't believe I'm actually saying this. I must be losing my mind."

"I think we should take all possible advantage right now, before it goes away," Lauren hinted with raised eyebrows. "If you get my drift, Leslie."

She sighed and shrugged. "Okay." While her friends watched, she wrote Roarke a quick note, then followed them out and along the path that would eventually take them into Amberville. Lauren and Brian lived on the outskirts of town.

The airy beach-style house Leslie knew so well, but hadn't been inside for the better part of a year, turned out to be a shambles, thanks to Kevin. "Where's the culprit?" Camille asked her cousin. "Seems pretty quiet for the home of a kid in the thick of the Terrible Twos. Brian got him on the boat?"

"Oh, heck no," Lauren said emphatically. "My mother claims she doesn't see enough of her only grandchild, so she's putting up with his antics today. At least we can get something done around here without him thinking it's a game and losing everything we find as soon as we dig it up. You can start here in the living room, Leslie."

Within just a few minutes a small heap of lost objects rested on the coffee table, and Camille and Tabitha remained behind to straighten the room while Lauren led Leslie into hers and Brian's bedroom to continue scanning for things. This time Leslie helped retrieve things, which necessitated that she keep the X-ray vision "turned on"; she was so busy helping Lauren gather lost items that it wasn't till they finally completed cleaning the whole house an hour later that she realized how tired she was.

"Thanks, Leslie, you're the greatest," Lauren said gratefully. "Are you sure you're okay to do this at Camille's too?"

Leslie blinked at her, shading her eyes from the sun with one hand, and shrugged. "I seem to be fine so far. Maybe having this ability isn't as terrible as Father suggested it could be. Well, then, let's head for your place, Camille."

"Our house is bigger," Camille said, looking a little concerned.

"Sooner we start, the sooner we finish," Leslie said. "Come on."

She was looking forward to returning to the main house after finishing her task at the Omamara residence, but in the middle of their efforts, Myeko showed up and stared at them in amazement. "What the heck are you guys doing?"

"Major cleanup and retrieval," Camille said with a grin. "All thanks to Leslie."

"Yeah? How?" Myeko asked.

"Leslie's got X-ray vision," Lauren told her and went on to regale her with the story while the others continued the cleanup. Midway through, Lauren and Myeko pitched in as well, though Lauren continued talking and Myeko listened avidly.

"That's cool!" she remarked enviously. "Hey, Leslie…seeing as how you're already involved in doing all this stuff, do you think you could…"

"It's not as if I'm doing anything else today," Leslie said with a shrug, without taking her eyes off the areas she was scanning. "Jacks at four o'clock, Camille, right between the carpet and the baseboard. I suppose if I'm going to provide this, uh, service, you'd better take advantage of it right now. I don't know how long it'll last."

"Hey, I'm not missing this opportunity. Ten to one we'll find every last one of Dawn's ridiculous little Polly Pocket dolls," Myeko said with anticipation. "Can't wait—she screams bloody murder every time I try to get the vacuum cleaner out. The house is a disaster."

"She's going to kindergarten this fall, isn't she?" Tabitha asked.

"Yup. Thank heavens. They'll finally all be in school. Hey, Leslie, I'll bet you and Lauren can't wait till yours hit that age."

"Don't rub it in, Okada, or I won't help you out. Miniature video games behind the dresser there," Leslie reported as they entered the room David and Craig shared. "I gotta tell you guys, I'm surprised you haven't asked to just take the potion yourselves."

A resounding silence greeted this, and Leslie looked up and around at her friends—and wished she hadn't. She was surrounded by skeletons. "Oh, _gaaaaaaaaacck,"_ she choked out and slammed both hands over her mouth. "Get out of my line of sight, _please."_

"Huh?" she heard Lauren, Myeko and Camille mutter.

"She probably saw your bones," Tabitha responded through a laugh.

Lauren made a gagging noise. "Ewww. No wonder."

"That's why we didn't ask for the potion," Myeko announced deadpan, and they all laughed, even Leslie. "Not only that, but seriously, I'd bet a fortune Mr. Roarke would have a few mild objections."

"Just a few," Camille concurred dryly. "Hey, cousin, come on over here and help me move this thing so I can get Craig's DS games out from behind it."

It was approaching mid-afternoon when Leslie was finally allowed to return to the main house, having gone through the Okadas' farmhouse from cellar to attic and turned up not only a startling number of Dawn's Polly Pocket dolls, but marbles, dice, earrings, socks and die-cast toy cars, as well as a total of $6.23 in change that Myeko insisted on giving Leslie for her trouble. Leslie blinked again, peering cautiously around the Okadas' vast front yard, trying to readjust her vision. However, she found that she'd been using the X-ray ability for so long now that she could still see the innards of everything she looked at, and squeezed her eyes closed with a moan. "You okay?" Myeko asked.

"Could…could somebody drive me back to Father's?" Leslie pleaded, wrapping her arms around her abdomen and keeping her eyes firmly closed. "I think I've been looking through things for too long."

"Whaddayou mean?" Camille asked.

"I can't shut it off," Leslie groaned. "Somebody'll have to guide me. Pretend I'm blind or something. Oh, fate, I hope I'm not gonna be sick."

"You can't shut it off?!" Lauren's voice burst out. "You mean you're still seeing right through everything?"

"Yeah…it's like I can see normally _and_ with X-rays at the same time." Leslie felt her stomach begin somersaulting in response to her own description. "It's awful. Oh, you guys don't even want to know, believe me. I just need to go home."

"I'll drive," Myeko promptly volunteered, her voice anxious. "Oh geez…it's probably all my fault for begging you to help me clean my house too. We shouldn't have pushed it."

"Maybe we shouldn't have come up with this stupid idea after all," Lauren said in a small, guilt-laden voice. "Wow, Leslie…I'm sorry, I never should've opened my big mouth."

"Me too," Camille said, blowing out her breath.

Tabitha asked, "When did this start?"

"I don't know," Leslie mumbled, letting Lauren and Myeko guide her across the yard to the car that waited in the driveway. "I was fine between Camille's house and Myeko's, but I guess it started backfiring on me sometime during the run through Myeko's house."

The five friends were silent for a few minutes, while they settled Leslie into the car, got in themselves, and got going along the Ring Road toward the main house. Then Camille said suddenly, "Hey…remember she said Mr. Roarke doesn't know she accidentally took some of the potion? What if he's there when we get to the main house? It'll all come out then, you know. Maybe we'd better take her home."

"I can't just go home," Leslie protested, still afraid to open her eyes. "Father'll wonder why I never came back."

"What about Christian's office?" Tabitha suggested. "He knows about it. It should be safe to take her there."

"Better idea," Leslie said and scrabbled in her purse till she came up with her cell phone. Blindly she thrust it at Lauren, who sat on one side of her. "Call him."

"Yeah, okay, I'll dial and you can talk." Leslie heard Lauren pressing buttons, then felt the phone being shoved back into her hand. She put it to her ear and felt strangely relieved when Christian answered, even though she knew he couldn't really do anything.

"Hi, my love," she said. "I'm with Camille, Lauren, Myeko and Tabitha…we're on our way to your office."

"Oh?" he responded. "Have all of you got computers for me to repair?" He chuckled.

"I wish it were that simple," Leslie admitted, dared to open her eyes a crack, and discovered to her nauseated horror that nothing had changed. "Oooooh. Hold on…Lauren…"

While Leslie struggled to keep the contents of her stomach where they belonged, she half listened to Lauren's side of the conversation with Christian, who she gathered eventually agreed that Leslie should come to his office. A few minutes later Myeko pulled up in front of the building, and again Leslie's friends guided her into the office.

"What in fate's name…" Christian began, half laughing. "I thought it was worse than that, the way Lauren described things to me. My Rose, come on, open your eyes."

"I don't dare," Leslie insisted. "I can't stand it. How…how many of your employees are here? I don't want this getting around."

"Beth and Julianne and Darius are here," Christian said. She felt him take over from Lauren and Myeko, guiding her to a chair and pushing her into it. "There, you just stay put for a few minutes. Now for fate's sake, will someone explain what's going on?"

"Things okay over there, Boss Prince?" Leslie heard Julianne ask.

"Yes, they're fine…Leslie's just having…a little dizzy spell," Christian hastily improvised. "She should be fine in a bit, and if not I'll take her home myself. Go on back to work, I'll be with you shortly." His voice dropped and became insistent. "Damn it, someone tell me what the hell's happening."

Leslie's friends rushed to do his bidding, tripping over one another in the attempt to give him the full story. Despite her roiling stomach, she had to smile to herself; Christian, in his increasing anxiety, had unconsciously issued a royal order again, and her friends had heard and responded accordingly. It took a few minutes for them all to get it straight, but Christian was quick to grasp the situation once he'd heard enough of the tale. "That," he pronounced incredulously, "is sheer madness."

"Yeah, well, we know that now," Camille said impatiently. "Question is, how do we get around Mr. Roarke?"


	5. Chapter 5

§ § § -- June 29, 2006

Christian sighed audibly, and for a moment or two they were silent, while the office phone rang and Leslie heard Darius answer. She dared one more peek at the floor and again slammed her eyes shut when she found she could see the joists through the carpet, and all the way down to the foundation floor below. "Christian, my love, can't we just go home?" she pleaded miserably.

"You'd have to call Mr. Roarke and tell him she's not feeling well," Lauren put in before Christian could reply.

The prince cursed mildly in _jordiska_. "I know that," he assured her. "Look, why don't you let me handle this, and you four can go on home. I hope at least you've accomplished your spring cleaning for the year."

Coughs and throat-clearing greeted this remark, and then Leslie heard a flurry of hasty farewells and feet tromping out the office door at quite a clip. She giggled queasily in spite of herself and murmured, "I don't know if you had to be vindictive, my love."

She felt a slight draft as he displaced air in the act of kneeling beside her chair. "If they really have known you for the last twenty-five years, my Rose, then they should have known better than to take advantage of you in this condition." He sighed again. "For that matter, I think you yourself should have known better than to take the ability and run off with it as you did. What in fate's name possessed you?"

"You sound almost like Father," Leslie complained. "I just thought it was harmless. It wasn't like I was advertising my X-ray vision all over the island, or gaining anything from it." She hesitated, then smiled sheepishly in what she hoped was his direction. "Well, nothing except about six bucks in change that Myeko gave me."

"Dug up from beneath sofa cushions and the like, hm?" Christian supplied wryly. "Oh, Leslie, what are we to do with you?"

"Hey," she protested, forgetting and opening her eyes to glare at him. "You yourself said this morning I should take all the advantage I could of this…oh, _geeeeezzz…"_ Unable any longer to stand the sight of Christian's face superimposed over a ghostly image of his skull, she slapped her hands over her entire face and gulped repeatedly to forestall nausea.

"Damn," Christian muttered guiltily. "I did say that, didn't I. The more fool I. I'm sorry, my Rose, I'd forgotten. So I suppose I'm a bit to blame as well." He paused a moment, then asked, "What will Mr. Roarke do if he finds out?"

"Oh, believe me, he'll find out," Leslie assured him grimly. "Well, it's not like he's going to turn me over his knee or something like that. But I tell you what, he'll be incredibly disappointed in me. I mean…I'm past forty, way too old not to know better."

She heard little tapping noises, indicative of Christian drumming his fingers on one knee; then he sighed yet again and said, "Well, here's my opinion, solicited or not. I think it's best if you come clean to Mr. Roarke now, before anything else happens. If it makes you feel better, I'll go with you. Besides, if we tell him, he may have a solution to the problem you contracted."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Leslie mused, slumping with resignation. "Might as well give up now before I really make things bad for myself. When do you want to leave?"

"Hmm…well, it's past three-thirty, and I imagine you've been gone for quite some time doing search-and-rescue duty for your friends. I'll take you back now and let Anton take over for the day. Come on." She felt him take her hand, and she stood up and let him guide her slowly out of the office and to the car, hearing Julianne and Darius calling get-well wishes after her as she went.

As luck would have it, Roarke was behind the desk when Christian and Leslie walked in; he looked up when he saw them and promptly closed his date book to watch them enter the room and each take a chair. "Is there something wrong with your eyes, Leslie?" he inquired.

"You could say that," she said, wondering whether she dared open them and risk getting an uninvited, and unwelcome, glimpse of her father's skull. Deciding against it, she ventured, "I hope you don't mind if I keep them shut while I explain."

"If you must," said Roarke quizzically, but Leslie detected a note in his tone that suggested he must already have some idea. "By all means, go ahead."

With that, she told her tale, from the concoction of the potion and her certainty that somehow a drop had splashed into her juice, up to the last few minutes when she and Christian had made the decision to confess everything. When she at last fell silent, there was no sound for a moment or so; she supposed Roarke was absorbing what he'd heard. Then, to her amazement, she heard him start to laugh softly.

"_Herregud_, Mr. Roarke, you think it's _funny?"_ Christian exclaimed.

"Only because," Roarke said cheerfully, "I myself committed precisely the same error in my own training days as a very young man. As you insisted, Leslie, it was strictly an accident, and that is excusable. Unfortunately, what you did in the aftermath is less so."

"I was just trying to be helpful," Leslie protested weakly. "I didn't think it would do any harm. It's not like I was going around trying to see people's skeletons…" She swallowed thickly and so loudly that both men chuckled. "Not that I managed to avoid that. I've seen more of my friends, and even of Christian, than I really wanted to."

Roarke laughed again. "Since you seem to be so unnerved by what you didn't mean to look at…" He paused for effect, and Christian snickered; Leslie just groaned. "My apologies. I do have something for you that will relieve you of the side effect you're experiencing; and, as I said, since you are so bothered by it, I think that's quite enough punishment for your escapades through the day. Wait here a moment—excuse me."

"So, there…it wasn't so bad after all, now was it?" Christian asked comfortingly.

"Bad enough," Leslie murmured. "That is to say, now I feel incredibly stupid."

He laughed. "You wouldn't be the first or the only one, my Rose. Though I have to wonder how much time Mr. Roarke is going to let pass by before he trusts you to make another potion."

Leslie wanted to give him a dirty look, but she was still afraid to open her eyes; fortunately for them both, they heard Roarke's footsteps returning, and a few seconds later he pressed a vial into her hand. "Go ahead and drink the entire thing all at once," he said.

She did as directed, then sat uncertainly, wondering if there would be some sign that the stuff had taken effect. "Are you all right, my Rose?" Christian asked.

"How long do I have to wait?" she asked.

"It should have taken effect already," Roarke said. "Open your eyes."

She cracked them just the barest bit and squinted at the desk, then opened them all the way and groaned loudly. "It worked! Thank you, Father, what a relief."

"What about the X-ray potion?" Christian persisted, his voice boyish with unrelieved curiosity. "Is she still stuck with its effects?"

Roarke sat down, a thoughtful look on his face. "Well, Leslie says that a drop of it landed in her juice, and from her narrative, I deduce that said drop was undiluted with water, so that it would be at strength when she ingested it."

"But she drank it with her juice, not straight," Christian pointed out. "The juice should have diluted it."

"But not in the way water does," Roarke explained. "Pure water does not affect the ingredients of a potion. Juice, on the other hand, does—and the effects depend on the fruit from which the juice was derived. In your case, Leslie, it was mango, which was the reason the ability has lasted as long as it has."

"But what about my seeing X-rays even when I didn't want to?" she asked.

"Oh, that's a side effect of the potion no matter what one uses to dilute it. Use it for too long at a time, and you'll find yourself seeing everything in two modes, just as you did. I learned the same thing myself, the hard way." Roarke chuckled as if in remembrance. "I was quite an impetuous young man." Christian and Leslie looked at each other and then at him, both wondering if they ought to press the point; but then Roarke came back to the moment and the opportunity was gone. "In any case, Leslie, you should be just fine."

"But do I still have the ability?" she asked.

Roarke nodded but looked noncommittal. "The effects should wear off in another six to eight days, and you'll be just fine thereafter." The phone rang. "Excuse me, please."

Under his phone conversation, Leslie gaped at Christian in horror_. "Six to eight days?"_

Christian was clearly trying not to laugh, shifting in his chair and looking all over the place in an attempt to avoid her gaze. "Just think of it as a way to keep the triplets in line. You'll be able to see what they're doing no matter where they are." He then dissolved into chortles in spite of his efforts. Leslie glared at him, caught another glimpse of his skull and seriously considered asking Roarke for a vial of the sleeping potion Adam O'Cearlach had once given her—_anything to get through the next week,_ she thought!

* * *

_I apologize for the long gap between chapters 3 and 4; I contracted a whopper of a cold that took all that time to go away properly. I thought that to make up for it, I'd get this done as quickly as I could. :) The next story will be another retrospective in honor of Hervé Villechaize's upcoming birthday._


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